


Over A Series Of Months

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anniversary, Beginnings, Established Relationship, Fluff, Insecure Dean, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8615194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Snap shots of Dean and Cas in the first year of their relationship





	1. In the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is a thank you to Tumblr readers (and readers here by proxy) on account of me Tumblr-er-ing for a year :) 
> 
> x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see notes at the end if you have any squicks at all!

“Is this okay?”

 

There is a twisting lift in his stomach at the words, the tone a perfect blend of hesitance and heat, that says  _ this is happening, this is what we are now, this is what we both need _ . A solid press against his front, the slight dig of a kitchen surface into his back, and Dean is trapped. Happily, Dean thinks to himself, and stretches his grip, fingers spreading over the thinness of a shirt stretched taut over skin he’s genuinely going to get to feel for himself now instead of just fantasising about.

 

That thought nudges his heart into a jolt, unsticks his words, allows Dean to nod and press back in for a kiss from lips that are soft, strong, so much more than the vague dry chapped feeling he’s been thinking about for god only knows how long now.

 

“Yeah,” he manages to answer with, and it comes out soft, full of wonder, still sounding half shocked, because that’s how he still feels.

 

“Yeah,” he manages again, along with another nod; Cas’ easy smile lifts a touch higher as he leans in, slotting their mouths together and pressing a little tighter up against him.

 

Dean’s sigh is automatic, unchecked, a blast of air Cas smiles around without breaking the kiss. Cas is good at this, perfect even. He’s bound to be, Dean tells himself; didn’t he rebuild him from the inside out? Wouldn’t that already make him an expert in all the parts of Dean, giving him true insider knowledge of which way to tilt his head to press their mouths together perfectly, the exact spot to circle his thumb in the back of Dean’s hair, just behind his ear?

 

The way Cas  _ feels _ , Dean sighs again, wrapping his arms even tighter, it’s more like Cas was designed and built for  _ him _ , not the other way round. Cas feels and fits him perfectly, and really, considering the convoluted path it’s taken to get them here, it’s going to take at least a few more lifetimes for Dean to really and truly believe they get to have this. He keeps looking around, narrowing his eyes in the search for any signs of a djinn being at work, but so far has come up with nothing.

 

Cas smiles against him as though he’s reading his mind, does this stroke of his fingers against Dean’s back that really should not feel quite that magical considering it’s just  _ there _ , sort of on his side, not near any kind of erogenous zones or guilty pleasure places. But Cas knows him, every part of him, every wrinkle and each dimple. He’s constantly tuned in to what makes Dean feel good, and they’ve not even  _ done _ much but kiss, make out, fully clothed, wrapped around each other as though now they’ve decided they  _ can _ touch they have no intention of stopping doing it.

 

“Hey guys, look at this, I just-”

 

Is followed by the distinct sound of shoes scuffing to a hurried halt on tiles, and continues with an, “Oh wow, uh, forget it- my bad, I’ll come back later...”

 

Dean sags full bodily in Cas’ arms, and Cas’ smile just twitches that little bit higher against his lips before Dean pulls back enough to drop his forehead down on Cas’ shoulder. Dean looks up at him tiredly then, feeling deprived as Cas pulls back from him enough so he can stand, that linger of heat between them fading far too quickly.

 

“Sam, c’mon,” Dean yells; Cas turns and leans back against the counter by Dean’s side, their shoulders and arms pressed together.

 

Sam’s head appears around the doorway with his eyes winced up and closed, slowly unscrewing to look at them.

 

“I can just-”

 

“Sammy,”

 

At Dean’s bark Sam’s visible shoulder falls, and he steps awkwardly back in the room with a tablet pressed against his stomach, screen first, half hunched in on himself as though he really doesn’t want to have to look up.

 

“I- I just… I read this just now and it sounds like it might be something for us,”

 

Dean doesn’t move, watches as Sam warily approaches, hooks a thumb around the edge of the tablet and pulls it away from himself, turning it to Dean.

 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt-”

 

“S’fine, Sammy-”

 

“I mean I can go-”

 

“Sam,”

 

Both Sam and Dean look immediately over at Cas’ calm word, watching him nod to show he’s glad he’s got their attention.

 

“This change… this development in our relationship,” Cas says, cool as anything, eyes flitting to Dean’s and bathing him in their warmth, “it is not my - our intention to make you uncomfortable, Sam,”

 

“I know. I’m not,” Sam stutters out to him in a rush, his eyes a little rounder than normal and a hand out and up as though asking to be understood. “Just gonna take me a little time to… to remember to, uh… knock first, uh… to… to just…  _ look _ ,”

 

Dean kind of loves how flustered Sam is behaving, a high pink flush on his cheeks and a little lost look about him that just leaves Dean fighting back a mirthful grin.

 

“I understand,” Cas replies, solemn, on their behalf, taking the lead. The very thought has Dean’s stomach twist again in a very pleasant way. “We will attempt to be discreet,”

 

“We’ll be discreet,” Dean echoes, nodding, a rage of embarrassment rushing through him at the thought of Sam walking in on them doing  _ anything _ other than, well, just the kissing he’s just walked in on them doing.  _ That  _ he doesn’t mind one bit, really. But anything else… Dean tries to rein in his full body shudder at the thought.

 

Sam’s smile is small, thin, telling Dean he’s happy for them and wants to be happy for them but he’s just not yet used to this, as Cas put it,  _ development _ between them. It’s been three days, Dean huffs to himself,  _ he’s _ still getting used to the idea.

 

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam stumbles out a moment later like the words have taken that long to catch up with his brain. Dean extends his hand out for the tablet, pulling it back so that both he and Cas can read.

 

“‘Sides,” Sam adds, and Dean knows that tone, he knows it far, far too well not to flinch in anticipation of teasing. “You’re practically  _ naked _ , Cas. It’s… it’s bound to stop a guy in his tracks,”

 

Cas looks down at himself, and so does Dean, taking in the rolled sleeves of his shirt to his elbow, the unbuttoned collar, the lack of tie. Wow, Dean thinks to himself, given Cas’ usual get up he really  _ is _ sort of naked stood there like that. He half wants to stand in front of him to protect him from Sam’s prying eyes, but that just feels a little too dramatic.

 

“ _ Anyway, _ ” Dean interrupts, both before Sam rouses himself enough for actual teasing and Cas starts pointing out to Sam that he is not, in fact, naked; thoughts about Cas being naked make Dean all kinds of hot under the collar, and they have done for a while now in fact. A long while. But since he and Cas actually are  _ doing _ this now, well. Nakedness is definitely, absolutely one hundred percent on the agenda. Dean kind of can't wait, but is also filled with a thrill of terror at the prospect as well. He's felt Cas' muscle; what if he's disappointed in what Dean's got to offer him? What if he just plain doesn't  _ like _ the intimacy between them that Dean's been fantasising about for far, far longer than he's ever going to willingly acknowledge? What if-

 

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Dean says again, clearing his throat - and his mind from where it is wandering- and fixing Sam with a look, “What’re we looking at?”

 

“Looks like a hazing on campus went all kinds of wrong,” Sam manages to stumble out after another moment of looking awkwardly between the two of them. “Kids were… tryna offer up some sort of… I don’t know. Mock sacrifice-”

 

“Blood of the innocent kinda thing?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam’s nod is pinched tight with the grimace that says just how sick rereading the words are making him feel. “Exactly. ‘Parently the, uh, the blood of… of  _ virgins _ is sweetest for whatever deity they think they’re pretending to pray to.”

 

“So the new pledges,” Dean says, prompting and grimacing himself, gagging a little as Sam nods in agreement.

 

“Yeah. Bullied and tormented ‘till they admit they’re virgins and one sample for their little… sacrificial artwork turned into a full on blood letting,”

 

“Oh, gross,” Dean covers the screen with his hand and pushes away the morbid picture there, giving a click of disapproval as Cas reaches for the tablet himself and scowls at the screen.

 

“This symbol,”

 

“‘S Pan. Right?” Dean knows his symbols, and there’s no doubt in his mind that the crudely drawn  _ finger painting _ done in blood on the torso of this college kid is supposed to that of the horned god himself.

 

Sam nods, looking at the photo with equal distaste. “I’m gonna assume these guys were thinking less  _ shepherds flocks  _ and  _ wilderness _ and more  _ male virility  _ and  _ sexuality _ given their, uh,  _ records _ ,”

 

Before Dean even has to utter the question out Sam is tabbing through something and turning the screen to him. Dean feels his eyebrows rise of their own accord and a stutter of disbelieving laughter erupts from his lips.

 

“They’re- actual notches on bedposts?  _ Seriously _ ?”

 

“‘Parently,”

 

“Dude,” Dean laughs, slightly incredulous, “There’s… there’s more notches ‘n post on some of these,”

 

Bedposts that were once mahogany stained but now have so many gouges out of them there is more virgin wood on display than fading stain fill the screen, bed after bed of every member of the fraternity.

 

Sam nods, “Guess something was working for them, huh?”

 

“And the kids… they thought… they were praying- sacrificing to-”

 

“According to one of the statements they were painting symbols with the blood of virgins and offerings of milk and honey-”

 

“You gotta be kidding me-”

 

“‘Fraid not. Anyway,” Sam says, grimacing once again, “Seems something’s gone wrong along the way. ‘Cos this kid’s dead, and two others are under close observation after having apparently turned cannibal on the guy,”

 

“Oh  _ gross _ ,” Dean gripes again, turning his head away in distaste.

 

“Yeah. So… wanna check it out?”

 

The amused enthusiasm in Sam’s face puts Dean within three seconds of an eye roll but he holds it in, barely, the solid weight of Cas by his side grounding him against it. This is new,  _ they _ are new, at least in  _ this _ capacity they are, but Cas has been grounding Dean, keeping him settled and calmer than he normally would be for so long now it’s almost laughable.

 

Dean gives his agreement, Sam proposes a departure time, and since it’s them living this life constantly on the go, they’re leaving in under an hour. Sam leaves the room and the moment he’s gone Dean is turning, gently nudging Cas back against the counter.

 

“You, uh… you could come with if you want. You know. If… you got nothing else on,” There’s a tiny pause as Dean lifts his hands to settle around Cas’ waist, a moment where he’s still telling himself he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch.

 

Cas smiles, presses Dean’s palms flat against his own sides before resting his hands just above Dean’s elbows.

 

“Ask me, Dean,” There’s laughter in Cas’ voice but also firmness, a request for honesty and openness that he knows he has the right to claim now.

 

Dean is, of course, powerless.

 

“Can you come with us-  _ me _ , Cas? I- I don’t mean for the case, but… I… if you can, I want you with me. That okay?”

 

Cas’ expression stays neutral but Dean can see the sparkle of glee in his eyes seconds before his face cracks into a smile that’s both amused and adoring.

 

“Of course,” he says, and it’s soft, sweet, followed up immediately with a gentle press of their lips together.

 

“Of course,” he says again; Dean’s shoulders drop in relief but tense immediately when he adds, “we will need to discuss… sleeping arrangements,”

 

“Uh-”

 

“I am not sure Sam would be completely comfortable with the three of us sharing one motel room now, considering that we are… what we are,”

 

Images of Sam pulling the most horrified of expressions, of himself not being able to control the way he reaches for Cas in his sleep already, of  _ them _ not being able to keep from touching. It’s different now; before when there were motel rooms to share between three it made no difference, because Cas didn’t need to sleep and if he even stayed would invariably sit still as a statue on whatever seating there was in the room. But now, at least these past three nights where Cas has stayed in Dean’s room with him, that’s meant Cas between the sheets and wrapped around him, and staying there even when Dean sleeps.

 

Dean can’t even begin to handle Sam’s expression at seeing that, and it’s not even happened yet.

 

“I… maybe we can get two rooms?” Dean suggests, immediately assaulted by images of being alone with Cas in a hotel room with absolutely nothing between them and an entire world of possibilities. He blinks it back, because this isn’t something they should rush, and it’s also something that he’s not even sure he’s really ready for. It’s not like anything he’s experienced before, because there’s no  _ casualness  _ here. This is important, this feels big enough to take slowly enough for them both to come to terms with.

 

There’s a flare in Cas’ eye then that Dean thinks, amazed, might be Cas imagining the very same things. It brings Dean a step closer and leaning in for a kiss that’s a little heated. Cas rests one palm heavy in the centre of Dean’s lower back and the other comes up to cup Dean’s face, angling him just how he wants him until Dean’s eyes are fluttering closed with the feel of it.

 

“I believe that will be for the best,” Cas mumbles against his lips before deepening the kiss up, groaning softly when Dean presses firmer against him.

 

Dean stutters out his own moan, hands sliding around and up Cas’ back stretched out wide to feel all of his heat beneath his palm. Again Dean’s mind wanders with possibility, of when even that thin shirt won’t be between them and they can be firmly skin on skin.

 

Cas’ lips curl up against him; Dean knows he can feel exactly where those thoughts have taken him. He’s a little embarrassed, a little shy about it and finds himself pulling back, breath catching at the gleeful smile Cas gives him.

 

“We should take two rooms,” Cas repeats, and the intent there has Dean’s throat clicking dry. He nods once, leans in to press another kiss on him then mumbles about having to get things ready for them to leave.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is mention of a case involving blood and, um, promiscuous behaviour: we don't actually see the case or the blood (or the promiscuity) and neither of these things involve our boys.


	2. After a month

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see notes at the end if you have any squicks

Squirming. Moving. Growing.

 

Discomfort is keeping him just on the edge of consciousness, half in and out of a dreamscape where he’s half tethered and half drifting in the abyss of sleep.

 

Dean listens to voices that are muffled, little more than background noise, unable to place them or comprehend a single word that’s being said. He doesn’t think anyone’s actually speaking to him, and even if they are, he doesn’t seem to be in any fit state to be answering them.

 

Is he sick? Injured? Hungover, perhaps?

 

Bile hits the back of Dean’s throat and for a second he thinks he’s going to have to launch himself out of this half-asleep state to find a bathroom, and quick. But the nausea abates, his heart rate calms, and Dean allows himself to stretch.

 

His palms are warm against his chest and he feels his heart thrumming away unhurriedly there beneath his skin. He’s not wearing a shirt; oversensitive nipples sit rigid and insistent against the centre of his palms, and Dean finds himself pressing down, frowning at the sting of them.

 

One hand shifts to press against his sternum, the other slides to the sheets by his side, a sense of sadness turning his lips down into a pout at feeling only cold sheets there instead of the warmth of Cas’ skin. He knows, consciously or subconsciously, he’s not sure, that Cas is somewhere nearby though, so the pout doesn’t stay too long, turns more into an impatient sigh wondering when he’ll be returning.

 

Returning his hand to cover the other still at his sternum, he allows them to linger there for a moment, pressing his legs a little further apart, his heels skimming across the smoothness of the sheets in a soft caress.

 

Dean feels a stirring; a heat at his root calling for attention. A slight shift and Dean realises he is in fact completely naked there beneath that sheet, feels himself fill and thicken, knows if he looks down he’ll see himself tenting. The thought makes him smile, widen his legs a little further, tilt his hips a little to feel that light friction there of cotton against his rising flesh.

 

Dean wonders what Cas will make of coming back from wherever he’s gone to find Dean with his cock in his hand, lazily getting himself off, imagines the heat in his gaze. That single thought has him stiffening fuller; a single press of his hands against his sternum and he’s separating them, warm palms against the tops of his ribs intent on a slow stroke down.

 

As he nears his stomach Dean’s palms sweep up in a curve, the soft swell of his stomach seeming to surge against his palm, respond to the gentle caress. And at the fullest point of his stomach as alarm bells start sounding and his heart begins to ferociously pound, there is a distinct kick there against Dean's hand.

 

Swallowing repeatedly and finding himself gasping for air Dean knows he’s going to have to look. He knows he’s going to have to look down at himself, see what he already knows is there, even if he wants to pretend that it isn’t.

 

Dropping his gaze, slowly, slowly, as though somehow that will lessen the panic, Dean’s eyes fall not to the tenting of his normal morning wood, but instead his swollen stomach, heavy with child.

 

A gasp, a jolt upward; Dean is up and out of the bed running at the speed of his pounding heart, through the bunker’s corridors that in this moment feel endless, his hands cradling his stomach as though he’s afraid it might drop if he doesn’t hold on to it.

 

Dean screeches to a halt in the shower block all but throwing himself in front of a mirror, yanking up his t-shirt and hunching over in sheer relief for a second, before standing straighter and reassuring himself with repeated hands running over his stomach that the only thing making it jut out ever so slightly is his usual worship of pie.

 

Catching his own eye there in the mirror for a second Dean laughs at the ridiculousness of himself, the sense of panic still lingering around the edges enough to course a tremble through him, though thankfully beginning to abate. He stands for another minute running his palms over himself, needing the further reassurance that he’d been dreaming and that he wasn’t about to wake to some truly terrifying reality.

 

When he’s had his fill of looking Dean walks back through, snags a bottle of water up from the fridge that he drains on the way back to his room, comes to an awkward stop when he steps inside and finds Cas calmly perched on the end of the bed, watching him.

 

Dean’s instinct is to step closer to him, claim the kiss he knows is his for the taking. But the dream is still too vivid and leaves him cautious, standing and staring back at him unmoving. Cas watches back, silent, giving Dean the time to process his thoughts. When he seems to be happy with what he’s seeing he nods, pats the side of the bed beside him, encouraging Dean to sit.

 

“I heard your distress,” Cas begins, his tone giving nothing away about what he is or isn’t thinking.

 

“You did, huh?” Dean replies, sitting down and sliding his fingers through Cas’ fingers, determined not to be idiotic and overreact about a simple bad dream.

 

“Of course. I apologise that I was gone when you woke; I had some matters to attend to,”

 

“Everything good?” Dean asks, turning his head and glancing Cas over to check for any signs of injury or distress. Cas rewards him with a soft smile and nods, his eyes lingering on Dean’s lips but for the moment at least holding back. Dean thinks he knows why.

 

“Everything is fine, Dean. However I think we should talk about your dream,”

 

Instantly Dean is tensing up, though he forces himself to keep quiet so that any words that might come spilling out won’t be misinterpreted.

 

“You, uh… you  _ saw _ that?” he manages after a moment needed to organise his thoughts.

 

Cas gives a nod of confirmation and Dean feels that strange sensation of being both tethered and drifting all over again. He has to force his eyes away, looks instead down at their entwined fingers, focuses on that connection and tries to use it to anchor himself.

 

“We have recently discussed…  _ progressing _ … our relations, Dean,”

 

A wince at Cas’ choice of words and the reminder of all those hard conversations, but Dean can’t deny it. It’s been a month now since that first night, since that first kiss, and it’s still a surprise every morning to him that this is a thing that’s actually happening between them.

 

That there’s such restraint between them is also pretty surprising. What’s even more astonishing is that there hasn’t been a sense of urgency here, simply a gentle easing into the idea, an attitude of when we’re ready, when we feel like it, when we  _ want _ .

 

Dean does want, he seeks to clarify to himself then, god how does he  _ want _ Cas. And Cas, from what Dean’s felt pressing against him on more than one occasion clearly wants him back as well. It’s just been a question of getting the timing right.

 

“Yeah. We have,” he manages to say when Cas’ stare tells him he’s taking too long to answer. “And… I still… I still want that. Man, I  _ need _ that. With you. I need  _ you _ , Cas,”

 

Dean’s words come out in a jumble but are rewarded with a warm smile, although, Dean thinks to himself then, Cas hasn’t leaned in to kiss him yet and that’s something that they have been doing, that Cas’ has taken to doing every time he comes back from whatever angelic duties call him away.

 

He’s hesitating, Dean thinks, worrying all over again,  _ he thinks I’m pulling back from him _ .

 

With that fear firmly hammering away inside his skull Dean surges forward, wraps his free hand around Cas’ jaw to turn his face to him and allow him to kiss him full, and thorough, pouring into it every kind of feeling that he can.

 

“As I want you,” Cas replies once they pull back, squeezing Dean’s fingers in reassurance.

 

“I didn’t want you to think… you know. ‘Cos of… ‘cos of that  _ dream _ -”

 

“Dean,” Cas beings, turning a little until their thighs are pressed together, “It is natural for you to have concerns,”

 

Dean doesn’t even know  _ where _ that concern’s actually come from. Too many late nights and too much crappy TV in his history possibly, because there’s really no logical reason for it whatsoever. None at all. Not one.

 

“Yeah,” he says, trying to appear nonchalant, “but  _ that, _ uh… that concern’s just… it’s... it’s not even  _ possible. _ Is it?”

 

Dean knows there’s doubt, fear and all sorts of other things tied up in his question, feels himself holding his breath even though he’s telling himself to breathe easy.

 

Finally, Cas rewards him with a rueful smile. “Whilst there have been numerous nephilim throughout the history of mankind, no, Dean. It is not possible for us to procreate. Neither of us can impregnate the other since we are both lacking wombs,”

 

Bile hits the back of his throat again, though Dean tells himself it shouldn’t.

 

“So, uh… if… if I was… if I was a  _ woman-  _ or you- your vessel was a-”

 

“I believe the same to be true. This vessel once I possessed it became… incapable of reproducing.”

 

“That what... that what happens to all of 'em? All the vessels?” Dean asks, curious yet so very relieved. Even though he's still telling himself how ridiculous he's being.

 

“I do not believe so. This vessel has been through traumas that none were supposed to experience. It was my intention to return it to Jimmy once my work on Earth was complete. However-”

 

“I’m glad you stuck around,” Dean says in a blast of words, tightening his grip on Cas a little more at the thought of losing him.

 

“I am not going anywhere, Dean,” Cas reassures him, firm and secure, leaning in and kissing him and resting his head against Dean’s for a second before pulling back with a slight smile.

 

“Good. ‘cos I gotta tell you. It’d… it’d suck if you took off on me now,”

 

“I am not going anywhere, Dean,” Cas repeats, pulling Dean to his feet and walking him around to lay down on the bed, keeping the eye contact between them as he slowly strips down to nothing but his boxers and crawls up the bed over Dean, slots himself between his legs, slides his hands beneath his thighs encouraging Dean to lift and loop them around him.

 

“I am  _ yours _ , Dean,” Cas tells him quietly as Dean settles, a mumble into his ear before he presses a kiss just below it in the exact spot he knows will have Dean whimpering.

 

“I am only yours,” Cas kisses into his neck, along his jaw, before slotting their mouths together in a slide that has Dean sighing, wrapping his arms around Cas’ shoulders and pulling him a touch closer.

 

“Same, Cas. Same,”

 

“I hope that your next dream involving me will be… more pleasant,” Cas adds, rolling his hips a fraction that pools heat in Dean’s gut.

 

“I’ll… I’ll see what I can do,” Dean stutters out, closing his eyes at the pull of teeth grazing against his neck.

 

“I will do what I can to assist you with that, Dean,”

 

Warm fingers sneak below his t-shirt and in a flurry of movement it is off him, replaced with Cas kissing his way down his chest.

 

“I’d- I’d say that’s assisting,” Dean manages to stutter out, sliding his hand through the back of Cas’ hair and letting out a soft whimper of a moan as Cas moves himself lower.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no pregnancy in this chapter, however Dean does have a nightmare about one.


	3. Six months in

“Something’s clearly bothering you,”

 

Sam’s words are grating, hitting the nerve exactly where he intended, striking hard enough to stop Dean in his tracks where he’s been pacing.

 

Scowl. Pivot. Another scowl followed by a shake of the head in firm denial as he spins back around, carries on walking.

 

“Cas okay?”

 

The only other words that would ever bring Dean to a complete halting stop. Dean pivots, slow, fixing Sam with a look that he wants to be menacing but is met with nothing but a half-knowing smirk.

 

“‘Course,”

 

“And you two are clearly fine?” Sam adds, his eyebrow itching up a fraction as he continues to stare right on back.

 

“Yeah,” Dean replies, easy as anything because it’s the complete and utter truth. He and Cas  _ are _ good, they’re better than that in fact, they’re bordering on perfect. He only won’t say they  _ are _ perfect because he’s trying not to jinx things here, and herein lies the problem.

 

“C’mon,”

 

A huff, another turn away, and pacing starts up all over again, in time with the rapidness of Dean’s thoughts as they spiral, twist and spin.

 

“Dean,” Sam’s voice swirls impatient but amused; Dean turns back yet again and takes a stride forward, comes to a stop, sinks himself down into a chair opposite.

 

“Dean-”

 

“You know what the date is today?”

 

Dean’s question clearly has Sam a little baffled. His bottom lip drops down as though he’s about to speak but before he does he casts a glance over the tablet in front of him. When he reads the date out Dean nods, fingers drumming on the table and his face coming to a pinch in thought.

 

“Right,”

 

Sam pushes back, frustrated, shaking his head. “That s’posed to mean something?”

 

Dean’s thinking though, as he has been thinking all day about this, since he woke far too early and the significance of it popped into his head, wouldn’t leave him alone.

 

“It’s… it’s not an anniversary or something. Is it?” Sam tries, eyes narrowing a touch.

 

“No. ‘s nothing like that. Only…” Dean’s words escape him, leaving his fingers still skimming over that table and his brow furrowing in further thought. “Me and Cas, we’ve… it’s been more ‘n six months. I don’t… I didn’t even really mark the day we, uh-”

 

“Don’t want details,” Sam blasts back at him, palm up and outstretched to shield him from whatever words Dean might be about to say.

 

“Not gonna give you  _ details _ ,” Dean’s words come out snappier than he intended and he wrinkles his nose up in an offer of apology. “Anyway. We’ve, uh… we’re good. We’ve been… we’re really good. Okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam laughs, shaking his head to show this is a fact he’s already well aware of. “Yeah I’d… I’d kinda figured that out for myself. Got eyes you know. Ears. Mental scars-”

 

“Yeah,” And now Dean’s wincing; there’ve been a couple of occasions when Sam’s been made all too well aware of how  _ good _ they are, and there’s some memories right there neither one of them want to dwell on.

 

“Thing is,” Dean continues, tapping his fingers in an offbeat pattern, “It’s… I realised this morning that… that we’ve been… we’ve been… like  _ this _ now. For more ‘n six months,”

 

“So it  _ is  _ an anniversary,” Sam corrects, a smile on his face that is tinged with horror and Dean knows it’s because Sam’s now wondering if Dean’s turned into the kind of sap that marks half year anniversaries.

 

“No. It isn’t,” Dean shakes his head, needing to show how insistent he is about that.

 

“So… what?”

 

“It’s… you realise… I mean  _ I _ realised. This… this is the longest I’ve been with  _ anyone _ . By, like,  _ months _ . I can’t even… I don’t even…” Dean’s voice escapes him fully then, leaving Sam to smile back at him a little warmer, more considerate.

 

“So? It’s a good thing. You’re happy- both of you. Why wouldn’t it be a good thing?”

 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t a good thing. I was just… I’m  _ saying _ … it’s been more ‘n six  _ months _ , Sammy. How’d- how’d I  _ get _ here?”

 

Sam laughs then, shakes his head, grips his hands around the edge of the table as he stands. Dean watches over his shoulder as he walks behind him, bends to the fridge to slide out a couple of beers and wordlessly passes him one on the way back to his own seat

 

“It means it’s  _ working _ . You guys are working, and it’s… it’s  _ good _ . ‘S all it means, Dean. Not a big deal. I mean it  _ could _ be a big deal if you wanted it to be but-”

 

“I don’t need a big deal,” Dean is adamant in the shake of his head, because that’s not it; Sam’s missing the point altogether.

 

But then in true Sam fashion, he suddenly isn’t missing the point at all. The bottle stops mid way to his mouth and gently thunks down on the table as understanding washes over his face. “You’re not gonna mess it up. You’re not. Whatever story you’re telling yourself… you’re not. Okay?”

 

“What if I do?” Dean doesn’t mean for his voice to drop away to barely anything, to sound so very lost and unsure of himself. The truth is, these past six months he’s actually been at his most confident, most whole-feeling. It’s just he’s worried his track record’s going to catch up with him, and then where will he be? He can’t  _ not _ be with Cas now, not after all this time, not now he’s had a taste of just how good they can be together.

 

“You won’t,” Sam assures him, picking up his bottle again and taking a sip. “And if you’ve any doubts… you’ll figure ‘em out. Between you,”

 

***

 

Sam’s words are still playing on Dean’s mind hours later when he’s settling himself into bed and telling himself he’s not sinking in disappointment that Cas hasn’t made it home yet. It’s difficult; he knows Cas has got to disappear to do  _ his _ thing as much as he and Sam must do the same to do  _ theirs _ . That fact doesn’t make it any easier when he’s missing Cas like he is right now, like he always does when they’re away from each other for too long.

 

_ Too long _ is subjective; right now it feels like the two days Cas has been god knows where have been around two  _ years _ .

 

With a huff to himself Dean slides down underneath his duvet, reaches out to switch off the light and lays there, arms folded, staring up at the ceiling knowing sleep’s not coming to pay him a visit any time soon. Another shift, a few sighs; Dean closes his eyes eventually, reluctantly admitting there really is so very little chance of Cas making it back home tonight. Another huff and he’s turning on his side, telling himself he’s not idly stroking the back of his hand down the side of the bed where Cas normally lays with him.

 

Which is of course when a fluttered sound fills the room and has him jerking upright with a small gasp.

 

“You’re back,”

 

Dean’s up and out of the bed and launching himself at Cas within seconds, the light coming on automatically at Cas’ doing. Their chests slam together at the force of Dean’s enthusiasm, and that in turn makes Cas’ arms raise slower than Dean would like to hug him back. But when he does, Dean presses his nose into Cas’ neck and holds on tightly, breathing him in, his own breathing evening out to match the wave of calmness Cas’ presence washes through him.

 

Not giving Cas time to greet him Dean pulls back a touch, raises his hands to cup his face and draws him into a kiss that’s just as full of relief as his arms just were. Cas smiles against his lips, his hands coming to rest around his hips and drag him a step closer, humming in thorough approval as Dean opens it up.

 

“I apologise that it took longer than I intended,” Cas begins eventually, when Dean’s giving him the space he needs to actually talk.

 

“‘S fine. I got your message,” Dean says with an unnecessary nod over towards his phone as he laces his fingers through Cas’ and tugs him towards the bed.

 

“I have nowhere that I need to be currently,” Cas adds, his own hands raising to brush Dean’s away so he can slide off his trenchcoat and jacket, shake his tie from his neck as though it is nothing but a nuisance, begin to unbutton his shirt; all without breaking eye contact and smiling as he watches Dean swallow in anticipation.

 

“‘S… ‘s good to hear,” Dean manages to blast out thickly, already lifting his own t-shirt over his head at the minute gesture Cas gives him telling him to do just that.

 

“I have been listening to you all day,” Cas continues, warm palms against Dean’s sides to pull him forward and slot them together easily. “I do not suppose me telling you not to worry about the things you are worrying about will do anything to help,”

 

Dean’s eyes are down, embarrassed, having to look elsewhere. But he raises his hands to clasp them low around Cas’ back, shakes his head just a fraction.

 

“Then perhaps I can… demonstrate. Exactly how little you have to fear,” Cas suggests, waiting for Dean’s head to start to raise up to look at him and capturing his lips in a loaded kiss that Dean answers with a sigh that sounds part way between relieved and grateful.

 

Cas holds on to him for another moment then softly insinuates he take a step back until his legs are hitting the bed. With gentleness Dean doesn’t really know how to express that he needs right now Cas lowers him to the bed, immediately laying over him and settling between his legs.

 

“You are  _ mine _ , Dean. Six days… six months… six lifetimes wouldn’t be enough to change that,”

 

***

 


	4. Twelve months on

“You should answer that,”

 

“Nope,”

 

“Perhaps it is-”

 

“Nope,” Dean says again as he grabs the cell and switches it off without looking, without breaking eye contact, without even an ounce of him even  _ wanting _ to answer the call.

 

Cas smiles the second he hears the slide of the cell back down on the bedside cabinet and bends back over him, resuming the attention he’s been paying to Dean’s skin laid bare there beneath him.

 

A contented little sigh escapes from Dean’s lips at the feel of teeth gently latching around his nipple followed up by the graze of a lick of tongue. Warm hands wrap high around his waist holding him just where Cas wants him, and Cas slots back full bodily between his open thighs with an ease that shows just how well he fits there.

 

“‘Sides,” Dean sighs out, hands swiping over Cas’ shoulders before one settles between his shoulder blades and the other threads through to hold the back of his head. “We were in the middle of something,”

 

Cas shifts then makes a noncommittal sound that makes Dean arch up and gasp; how else is he supposed to react when Cas swallows him down so suddenly without the slightest warning? Dean raises his head a fraction and watches the stretch of Cas’ lips tight around his shaft and the smoothing upward press of his palms flat on his hips to stop them stuttering up of their own accord.

 

Cas looks up for a moment and somehow manages to smirk around him before allowing his eyes to flutter closed again, and he goes right back to hollowing his cheeks and sucking Dean down. A wave of arousal floods Dean and forces his head back onto the pillow with a soft blast of air, his knees parting a fraction wider as though he has no control over it. Somewhere beneath him Cas makes a noise of amusement that has Dean moaning out again to feel around him.

 

Dean runs his hands through Cas’ hair, over and over in thankful reverence, and then a few minutes later with a gentle tug when he’s getting too close and needs him to stop. Cas pulls off him slowly, a final flick of his tongue out over Dean’s head before he’s crawling back up still between his legs, claiming himself a kiss with an appreciative hum to himself.

 

A click of a bottle cap, a slick of a hand; Dean arches and groans under Cas’ always gentle ministrations to open him up.  _ Always gentle _ , he thinks, smirking to himself at the onslaught of memories of so many times when they’ve been a lot less than gentle with each other when they’ve been in a hurry – or simply been in  _ need _ . But in this moment and on this occasion, gentle is what they are.

 

Cas thumbs him open, slides inside in one slow steady thrust, sighing as he’s fully seated. He settles back over Dean and shifts until he can bracket his face between his elbows and still rock into him with that unhurried pace he’s clearly intent on that has Dean stroking his hands greedily along his back and tilting his chin up to claim a kiss.

It’s not an anniversary, Dean thinks to himself, his breath catching as Cas ducks his head down to mouth along his neck. It isn’t; technically that actual date - because ages ago now he actually sat down and worked out the specifics of that - that date was actually last week. But he and Sam have not long finished a hell of a case, and Cas only returned from his latest exploits this morning, meaning this is the first time they’ve seen each other in almost two weeks, and this is the first time since Cas’ arrival they’ve been able to be truly alone.

 

So it isn’t an anniversary, Dean insists, though it’s lost in the midst of the escape of a moan showing just how good that particular slide of Cas inside him feels. But it is good, so very good, to have Cas back, to be like this with him, to feel whole in the only way he ever does when Cas is with him - in whatever way that’s possible.

 

This isn’t even an intentional celebration of them being together; but together they are, and that is, as it always is between them, always enough. And their movements together are so fluid, so in sync, so  _ connected _ ; before  _ they _ happened Dean had never even known such connection was possible. But they know each other so perfectly that it only takes the slightest change in Cas’ facial expression for Dean to know he’s about to be filled, and that alone is enough to make him spill himself.

 

A few breathless moments, a couple of almost-kisses; Cas’ breath is warm in the crook of Dean’s neck as he drops his head down, drapes his fingers over so that he is all but cradling Dean’s face. Dean in turn has his legs wrapped around Cas’ and pinned against the bed so they’re as tightly laid together as it’s possible for them to be.

 

Another minute and they are on their sides curled towards one another, Dean still secretly delighted with the easy way Cas uses his grace to clean them up even after all this time that he’s been doing that. There’s something a lot  _ unholy  _ about something angelic being used to mop up something so  _ sinful _ that he gets a quiet thrill out of it each and every time. From the slight smirk on Cas’ face as he shuffles closer, Dean’s pretty sure he’s on to him. Although Cas, Dean thinks, unable to stop the way his lips turn up into a grin at that thought, would probably not approve of the word  _ sinful _ about anything they do together.

 

A half eye roll, a hand wrapped secure and warm around his waist; Dean watches as Cas gives a soft sigh and shuts his eyes, looking spent, contented, and oh so very  _ his _ . Dean studies Cas’ face as he rests, taking in the soft crinkling of lines around his eyes, the ever-present darkened jawline, the way his hair refuses to do anything resembling behaving, and he finds himself grinning even harder to himself.

 

“Dean,”

 

Dean’s smile splits wider still at the mock-sternness of Cas’ voice, unable to resist leaning in to press a kiss to Cas’ nose, one to his lips, before letting out his own sigh of contentment that leaves him resting his forehead against Cas as he closes his eyes as well.

 

Absently reaching out, Dean leans over Cas to retrieve his cell and cracks an eye open at the screen, thumbing open the message and seeing Sam’s poor attempt at subtlety. Snorting to himself he rolls again to slide the phone back where he’d just left it, presses himself up against Cas at every possible point and lets out another soft sigh.

 

“Is there a problem?”

 

“Nope. Sam’s just  _ giving us space _ ,”

 

Dean smiles at the feel of lips curled up into their own smile against his.

 

“That is very thoughtful of him,”

 

“You didn’t see what he wrote-”

 

“It is still considerate. Unnecessary but considerate,” Cas tells him before shuffling ever closer and pulling Dean tightly to him.

 

“'Unnecessary?'” Dean asks, a kiss to Cas’ cheek as he snuggles in.

 

“He is not in the room with us,” Cas reasons, pressing in his own kiss to Dean’s jawline.

 

“Good job-”

 

“And I would like to take you somewhere,” Cas continues, a warm palm pressed firmly against Dean’s lower back. “So we cannot lay here for very much longer,”

 

“Oh yeah?” Dean raises his head just enough for Cas to smile at the mistrust on his face. The last time Cas had wanted to  _ take him somewhere, _ that had involved Dean convinced for about three days after that Cas had turned his stomach inside out. True, the view from the Grand Canyon where Cas had landed them had been being incredible, and Sam’s eyes when he’d shown him the pictures worth every second of it. But things that generally put Dean off his eating he generally doesn’t favour too affectionately.

 

“Yes. Within driveable distance,” Cas assures him, leaning in for an amused kiss.

 

Dean nods slowly, about to ask a question and then-

 

“Yes, Dean, you can drive,”

 

Dean huffs to himself disgruntled at Cas’ apparent mindreading, but finds it kissed and nuzzled away from him before it can even pretend to settle in.

 

***

 

“How’d you find this place?” Dean repeats for the second time, not having given Cas the chance to answer the first for the obscene way he’d moaned around the slice of pizza he’d eaten in three huge messy bites.

 

Cas grins at him affectionately from across the table, fingers plucking delicately at the single slice in front of him that he is slowly working his way through. “Sam told me that you had passed here on the way back from your hunt. He said he hadn’t seen that look of, uh,  _ longing _ on your face since before you and I…”

 

Dean’s chewing slows as Cas’ voice trails away, watching the twitch of Cas’ lips as he gazes back at him. Dean swallows the mouthful of pizza he has and finds himself pressing his weight on his palms against the table, leaning across it and ducking in for a kiss. When he sits back in his seat he’s not sure which of them is more surprised by the action, but Cas’ face splits a touch wider into a full on grin, which makes Dean feel like the flush of heat to his own cheeks is worth it.

 

“Which has, by the way, been over a year now,” Dean says a moment later; they’ve gotten carried away just staring at each other and he wants to laugh at himself for how easy it is for him to fall into doing that. He drags his eyes away for the second required to find the slice he’s just abandoned to his plate, and takes another huge bite of it.

 

“A year and a matter of days,” Cas amends; the smile he gives Dean then says he also knows the exact date, is aware of the significance of it and also of Dean’s unsettled feeling around it. Dean gives a grunt of reply, unable to raise his eyes back to meet Cas’.

 

“Would you prefer that we did not acknowledge such things?” Cas asks, and though his voice is soft Dean can’t help but hear a trace of disappointment there in his words. Dean’s dropping his pizza and reaching out to slot his fingers between Cas’ in an instant, squeezing them lightly and adamantly shaking his head.

 

“S not that, Cas. Not that at all,”

 

“Then?” Cas prompts, squeezing Dean’s fingers back himself.

 

Dean drops his eyes to the table, wondering how the hell he’s going to word this. “I just… I… I didn’t even… I mean I guess… I didn’t think you’d maybe even  _ wanna _ acknowledge it. I… I didn’t know if… if you’d get the significance of it anyway-”

 

“The significance of one of the most important decisions of my existence? One of the best ones?”

 

The ruefulness of Cas’ reply gives Dean the bravery to look back up at him and when he raises his eyes Cas rewards him with a smile.

 

“I didn’t think… you know. Angels would-”

 

“You give me  _ reason _ , Dean. Purpose. Strength.  _ Home _ . These are no insignificant things,”

 

Dean feels his lips flicker up into a cautious smile of his own. “You give me all o’ that too, Cas. You know that, right?”

 

“Of course,”

 

“I just… I mean I’ve… I’ve never  _ been _ with anyone long enough to have an actual, uh… you know,” Dean’s voice trails away from him in embarrassment but Cas forces the eye contact.

 

“As you know: neither have I,”

 

And at that, all the tension Dean has been holding across his shoulders just  _ drops _ . Because it’s true; Cas has never been through this before either, any of it at all. So he and Cas, well, they don’t have to play by the  _ normal _ rules of being together. Hell, they never  _ have _ ; there’s no cookie cutter mould they have to fit here because that just wouldn’t be true to  _ them _ .

 

“So this,” Dean gestures at the pizza between them that he’s slowly working through the majority of himself and smiles, “This is what. You taking me for an anniversary dinner or something?”

 

Cas nods slow in acknowledgement of Dean’s words, and Dean thinks he sees a tinge of blush to his cheeks that just makes his heart race. He covers their joined hands with his free one and settles it there, grinning back as though he’s unable to not show just how happy he is.

 

Their meal continues easier then, Dean laughing as Cas tries to describe the texture of the molecules of his solitary slice of pizza whilst he himself finishes the rest of it. They sit for another hour nursing their beers, then take a drive and sit out on the hood of the Impala, the Kansas night sky never ceasing to amaze Dean, especially as he sits there in the warmth of Cas’ arm around him as he quietly describes everything they see above them.

 

When they return to the bunker much later they pause to speak to Sam for a while over another beer then retreat to Dean’s room. Dean watches as Cas sheds his layers and settles down on his side of the bed, feeling an odd tug of completeness with the regularity of the way Cas does that.

 

The slide of wood on wood echoes blunt in the room as Dean opens up a drawer beside the bed. The cool press of metal in his palm as he grips it sends a shudder through him that is little to do with the temperature. Having already stripped down to his boxers and a t-shirt Dean settles on the bed beside Cas, slowly extending his hand to rest over Cas’ curiously upturned palm.

 

“This, uh… this is gonna… it’s kinda… it’s stupid okay? It's... uh... I guess... I guess it's kinda symbolic. ‘Cos you know. You can… you  _ do _ come and go as you please; just kinda… just kinda wanted you to know…”

 

“Dean,” Cas prompts, his voice an odd twist of encouragement and excitement.

 

With a tiny sigh Dean unfurls his fingers and presses his palm flat against Cas’, holding it there for a second before sliding his fingers over it and away. He watches Cas’ eyes fall to the key he’s left there and feels his breath catch in his throat in anticipation. Cas stares down for several long seconds before he’s looking back up at Dean with such affection, such  _ love _ , that Dean’s reeling and a little overwhelmed by it, and even more so when Cas surges across the tiny gap between them to kiss Dean in gratitude.

 

Dean melts into the kiss, wraps his arms around Cas and sinks into his heat, his presence there with him. Cas’ kiss is full of enthusiasm and leaves Dean a little breathless when he eventually pulls back, still grinning at him as though he is amazed by Dean’s gesture.

 

“I failed to get you anything, Dean,” Cas begins when they break apart, a slight look of regret beginning to mar his face.

 

“Don’t need to,” Dean tells him with a firm shake of his head as he ducks in for another quick kiss. “You give me  _ you _ ; s’all I need,”

 

“Then you have me. You will always have me,” Cas promises him, wide, open and sincere.

 

Dean’s heart races to see it, with memories of them over this past year together playing on mute for him like a happy soundtrack as Cas gently lays him down on  _ their _ bed and worships him all over again.

 

***

 


End file.
